28.1.09

When desperate...

shut the f... up!
(Pardon my french)
I choose to finally learn this NOW!

23.1.09

mi último exámen


ring, ring.. mejor dicho.. tuu tuuu
me suena el celular

- ey viejo! cuanto tiempo!
- mira! tu vienes a cojer el exámen?
- eh.. si..
- ven! que son cinco minutos!
- si, si.. me estoy parqueando

(cinco minutos?)

dejé la sombra de paso
salí en bola dihumo 
solté el carro en una acera
malparqueao, detrás de un letrero de no estacione
con la triste intermitente puesta
"por favor, entienda usted, sr. amet.."

con las llaves del carro y un lapicero enredao en los cabellos
mas nada

"cual es el curso?"

ensayo, error.. ensayo, error.. 
hasta que salió una amiga
haciendome señas 
como si fuera yo un avión desubicao

entro

no sabía que esta clase tenía tanta gente
es como que nos turnabamos para ir
grupitos de a 4
ahora, como 15 en el aula

todo el mundo en lo suyo
el amigo que me llamó, con cara de apuro me hace señas que me siente
otro panita, al verme se estralla de la risa

"venga por aquí" me dice el profe, señalando la silla que queda justo a su lado.

el profesor..
ese señor. no se si será sabio, pero guarda un misterio de sabio.
uno de los mas reconocidos analistas del país.. 
no sé si de los mejores.
pero reconocido si es.
y he aprendido bastante con el.. solo que en otras clases.
y los dos documentos que trabajamos en esta,
los estudie hace un mes.

- buenas tardes profesor
- buenas megg. tenga su exámen. cinco minutos

(ahh.. cinco minutos.. crap.. no time to improvise)

diez clases
viente horas (mal contadas)
dos artículos

nada de listas
nada de tareas

conversaciones eternas
interesantes y complicadas

un exámen
diez preguntas
diez casos
dos opciones
cien puntos

cinco minutos

leo las preguntas y es como si estuviese en algún lenguaraje raro. respiro. me calmo. "cójelo suave, es nerviosismo por todo el acelere". leo las preguntas, ya están mas claras. leo y respondo. repito 9 veces y termino. cierro los ojos, visualizo el exámen. se ve borroso. "quiero ver las respuestas". se ve borroso. "quiero ver una línea trazada de una respuesta a otra". entonces empiezo a ver una línea, que a veces se quiebra. la imágen vibra con cada latido de mi corazón y se desvanece. "son los nervios.. uff.. cómo me calmo rápido?" 

- megg.. MEGG! su exámen.. ya pasaron los cinco minutos.

de poco sirvió lo que vi.. o lo que casi vi. 

---------

- tenga profesor
- ok. ahora tenga. repartale uno a cada uno. todos vamos a corregir, cada una vale diez. corrija rápido y entregue. de la uno a la cinco.. falso. seis y siete, verdaderas. las demas falsas. sumen y entreguen.

miro pa´tra porque estoy sentada alante, buscando un rostro que me haga señas de que tiene mi nota. una morenota, que me acuerda a alguna integrante de un coro gospel me mira con cara de pena y susurra "sesenta".

mi espíritu guerrillero se alborota y arranco. salgo rápido del aula "voy ahora mismo a pedir revisión. esta es mi última materia.. no es verdad que.."

- eeey!! megg!! eeeey!!! devuelvete! ven!
- ?
- que van a dar la nota..
- bueh.. ok.. 

me devuelvo. el idiota que me sonreía saco un setenta me dice. el que me llamó tiene cara de preocupación. 

- bueno.. la nota mas alta fué un ochenta, así que tiramos una curva.. a su nota, súmele veinte puntos. si pasó, felicidades. si no, nos vemos en seis meses.

y sale.

verdugaso.

y fué así como saqué una B en  mi último exámen 

=)


19.1.09

More Coins

Growing up, my father often told me a story that he learned from his teacher, Rav Braindwein, about how to deal with situations that seem difficult or troublesome.

It is told of a certain landlord in Russia that he told his deputy in charge that he had to go away for a few weeks and he commanded him to make sure that things ran smoothly. When the landlord left, all the laborers gathered upon the deputy and gave him at least ten beatings every day. The deputy came home everyday badly bruised and with tears in his eyes. His wife would console him and remind him that they needed the money to live.

Three weeks went by and the landlord returned. He saw the deputy was black and blue in all parts of his body. The landlord asked him how he came to this state and he told him about all that went on after he had left. The landlord investigated and found that the story was true and commanded his treasurer to give the deputy one golden coin from his own treasury for every blow that he had received while he was away.

With this money, the deputy did not have to work anymore and he could leave his employment with the landlord, and consequently, he would not have any more problems from the workers.

When the deputy received the golden coins, he went back home crying with tears in his eyes. His wife asked him pitifully if he had been beaten again by the ruffians.

"No", he said, "the landlord came back today and when he saw me badly beaten and bruised, he asked me what happened. I told him and that made him so sad and uncomfortable that he commanded his treasurer to go to the treasury and get me one golden coin for each blow that I received. Here are the coins. They will be enough for us to live on without me having to ever work again."

His wife asked him why he was crying, telling him he should be very happy. The deputy replied, with tears in his eyes: "You do not understand. I am sad because I was not given twice or three times as many blows. Then the landlord would have given me twice or three times the amount of coins!"

This week, know that those of us who seek the spiritual path in life must think in this manner. We must remember that the problems and troubles that seem to disturb us are only for our benefit.

When we learn to see this while it's taking place, then, like the deputy, we will learn to not be afraid of pain, and to see the blessings it contains.

All the best,

Yehuda

a year ago

el decidió caminar un poco mas de cerca 
y me dió la mano
y no dijo nada
se miro los pies y sonrió.

"Ok, andemos juntos.."

ya hace un año.

---------

la música va y viene, y los besos y las miradas. la complicidad de complica para todo el de afuera, la historia se escribe sola y mientras la disfrutamos intentamos que no nos haga tropezar. todos los fines de semana del calendario están marcados, y cada uno me hace sonreír por algo distinto. pasajes de libros me arropan el cuerpo, diálogos que escogiste, capítulos que decidiste no compartir. y yo lo sé, y tu sabes que yo sé. en las gavetas, ya mis piezas conocen algunas tuyas, y Akira te ama. esta segunda almohada reconoce tu pelo y se guarda fielmente de aquel lado de la cama. la historia se escribe sola, y seguimos sin mirarla demasiado. las fotos andan por ahí y por aquí. agradezco aún mas imágenes de lo aprendido, de lo vivido.. tatuajes de la vida.. y entre otras tinta, la tuya.. quizá la que faltaba. 

it's been wonderful. you're a great partner and i'm blessed. 

thanks  =)

15.1.09

Congratulations D!


The Cosmic Sensorium just won "The Best of Synthasite" award!

With profound love and hard work, D was able to put together a wonderful webpage. 



"Inaraiah" is one of my favorites...
What's yours?


him, Her and strawberries

so, i have this dream. and i'm giving her strawberries, and she looks at me and smiles. and says something without saying it, and i wake up. tres días sin dormir bien. mas.. como una semana sin domir bien. no son las horas de sueño. es que me paso la noche soñando mucho. y me dicen muchas cosas y tengo que moverme a muchos lugares y hablar con gente y explicar cosas. en una de esas me entregué a mi maestra pidiéndole instrucción. y ella me aceptaba y me bendecía. sueños fuertes. quedaban pocos recuerdos.

este día me desperté mas cansada que nunca. de buen ánimo pero cansada. y no sabía a quién explicarle ni como explicarlo, pero así me sentí. y salí por ahí, a esperar lo mejor del día, hablando un poquito con el sol camino al trabajo, negociando un poco de energía y concentración. 

my job is quite rewarding, in more than one way. y eso ayudó bastante, pero una vez salí del trabajo.. la energía bajita de nuevo. manejando se me nublo un poquito la vista. y me parqueo a la derecha. cierro los ojos y recargo. 

camino a casa lo llamo, como casi siempre, es obvio que algo me pasa. el pregunta, yo ni estoy. y de pronto me sale que es que quiero volver con ella. y no es por miedo esta vez. me mueve otra cosa. entonces el dice que si, que eso es.. y no se como que el sabe que si.. como es que valida todo esto que se supone que no conoce. como es que dice estas cosas.. lo justo, lo correcto, lo apropiado. y me instruye y me guía... y se supone que no sabe. pero sabe.. y es que las cosas de las otras vidas no las manejo. y ni modo. gracias al cielo. otro angelito.

mi día sigue largo y confuso. como un sueño lucido, mas extraño que lúcido. a las 5pm termino la tutoría con Angela, mi angelita china/taiwanesa/dominicana. y salí de ahí. sin rumbo. la llamé.

- hola
- hola mi niña, cómo está usted?
- muy bien, gracias
- como le fué en su viaje? 
- muy muy bien, gracias
- en que puedo ayudarle?
- me gustaría verla, puedo pasar por allá?
- ahora mismo no, tengo que salir. pero tengo algo mejor para usted. hoy empiezo a dar las clases nuevamente. puede asistir. tambien puede volver a consultar conmigo.

(i'm in absolute awe, profundamente agradecida y con lágrimas en los ojos.. lamentablemente  por teléfono)

- gracias.. mil gracias
- no me agradezca a mi.. sino a sus ángeles. algo bien ha hecho usted.
- gracias, estaré ahí.
- bendiciones

a so it begins..

"I meet my master"

Together Habu and I set out for a distant market place in the Bengali section of Varanasi. The ungentle Indian sun wasn't yet at zenith as we made our purchases in the bazaars. We pushed our way through the colourful medley of housewives, guides, priests, simply-clad widows, dignified brahmins, and the ubiquitous holy bulls. Passing an inconspicuous lane, I turned my head and surveyed the narrow length.

A Christlike man in the ochre robes of a swami stood motionless at the end of the road. Instantly and anciently familiar he seemed; my gaze fed hungrily for a trice. Then doubt assailed me. "You are confusing this wandering monk with someone known to you," I thought. "Dreamer, walk on."

After ten minutes, I felt heavy numbness in my feet. As though turned to stone, they were unable to carry me farther. Laboriously I turned around; my feet regained normalcy. I faced the opposite direction; again the curious weight oppressed me.

"The saint is magnetically drawing me to him!" With this thought, I heaped my parcels into the arms of Habu. He had been observing my erratic footwork with amazement, and now burst into laughter.

"What ails you? Are you crazy?"

My tumultuous emotion prevented any retort; I sped silently away.

Retracing my steps as though wing-shod, I reached the narrow lane. My quick glance revealed the quiet figure, steadily gazing in my direction. A few eager steps and I was at his feet.

"Gurudeva!". The divine face was none other than he of my thousand visions. These halcyon eyes, in leonine head with pointed beard and flowing locks, had oft peered through gloom of my nocturnal reveries, holding a promise I had not fully understood.

"My own, you have come to me!" My guru uttered the words again and again in Bengali, his voice tremulous with joy. "How many years I have waited for you!"

We entered a oneness of silence; words seemed the rankest superfluities. Eloquence flowed in soundless chant from heart of master to disciple. With an antenna of irrefragable insight I sensed that my guru knew God, and would lead me to him. The obscuration of this life disappeared in a fragile dawn of prenatal memories. Dramatic time! Past, present, and future are its cycling scenes. This wasn't the first sun to find me at these holy feet!

My hand in his, my guru led me to his temporary residence in the Rana Mahal section of the city. His athletic figure moved with firm tread. Tall, erect, about fifty-five at this time, he was active and vigorous as a young man. His dark eyes were large, beautiful with plumbless wisdom. Slightly curly hair softened a face of striking power. Strength mingled subtly with gentleness.

As we made our way to the stone balcony of a house overlooking the Ganges, he said affectionately:

"I will give you my hermitages and all I possess."

"Sir, I come for wisdom and God-contact. Those are your treasure-troves I am after!"

The swift Indian twilight had dropped its half-curtain before my Master spoke again. His eyes held unfathomable tenderness.

"I give you my unconditional love."

Precious words! A quarter-century elapsed before I had another auricular proof of his love. His lips were strange to ardour; silence became his oceanic heart.

"Will you give me the same unconditional love?" He gazed at me with childlike trust.

"I will love you eternally, gurudeva!"

"Ordinary love is selfish, darkly rooted in desires and satisfactions. Divine love is without condition, without boundary, without change. The flux of the human heart is gone forever at the transfixing touch of pure love." He added humbly, "If ever you find me falling from a state of God-realisation, please promise to put my head on your lap and help to bring me back to the cosmic beloved we both worship."

He rose then in the gathering darkness and guided me to an inner room. As we ate mangoes and almond sweetmeats, he unobtrusively wove into his conversation an intimate knowledge of my nature. I was awe-struck at the grandeur of his wisdom, exquisitely blended with an innate humility.


"Autobiography of a Yogi"
By, Paramahanasa Yogananda
Chapter 10